


Hello, My Old Heart

by airaze



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lumberjack AU, Lumberjack Ward to the rescue, Rating May Change, Sexual Tension, Skye needs a Christmas tree, Skyeward Christmas Fic Fest, Ward has a dog, is it possible to run out of cliches, or - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9233930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airaze/pseuds/airaze
Summary: Skye needs a Christmas tree; lucky for her, Trip knows a guy. Unlucky for her, the guy he knows is Grant Ward, part-time lumberjack. And Skye definitely hates Ward. Definitely.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Work/chapter titles are from The Oh Hellos' song.

**[Prologue] December 21**

 

 

“How was I supposed to know they could run out of Christmas trees? All they have left are the gross scrawny ones,” she whines into her phone. “Being an adult sucks. I’m done.”

 

“... Skye. Come on, girl. You waited until December _twenty-first_ to get a tree. This is not the world’s fault.”

 

“Hey! You’re supposed to be on _my_ side, Antoine Triplett.” She lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Any idea what I should do? I really want the party to be perfect.”

 

“I suppose plastic’s out of the question?”

 

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. Can’t I just go find some burly man to chop one down for me? Hey! Do you have a chainsaw?”

 

There’s a burst of static as he snorts into his phone. “Woman. I live _downtown_ . I go out of my way to _avoid_ nature, and plus, I think you need a permit to cut trees. What about Cal? Doesn’t he have an axe to help with, I don’t know, boyfriend intimidation or something?”

 

“Wow, Trip. He did that _one_ time-”

 

“One time?! Your dad has some serious Hulk-rage going on, girl. I swear his eyes turned red, and we’ve never even dated! You-” He breaks off his rant for a second.

 

“Hang on. I think I might know someone who can help.”

 

“Trip, wait a minute. If it’s Ward, I’ll just go withou-”

 

The harsh beep of the dial tone is her only response.

 

 

**December 22**

 

 

 _Trust Trip to come up with a plan and just run with it,_ she thinks as her car winds its way up the mountain road. _It’s crazy that things look so different a few miles outside the city._

 

Towering evergreens and skeletal… other trees… loom on both sides of the road. The light blanket of snow covering their foliage and the gathering overcast gives her the feeling that the forest is settling in to hibernate. It’s only natural, then, she reasons, to balance out the forest’s stillness by blasting her ‘Road Trip’ playlist on the car stereo (and obviously, if she’s singing along with ‘22’, she’s _gonna_ be dancing too). She’s making a mental note to track down the county’s snowplow guy and bake him a massive cake when she spots the turnoff for the cabin.

 

Skye’s seriously considering making a U-turn, claiming to be sick, and hiding inside for the holidays when she realizes she’s being childish. An adult, hosting a fancy Christmas dinner party in her fancy new apartment, would grit her teeth and GO GET HERSELF A TREE. Well, she’ll make that asshat Grant Ward get it for her. Call it repayment for inflicting himself on _her_ group of friends for the past six months. It doesn’t help that Ward’s got this weird bromance thing going on with Fitz, and Kara and Trip know him from their military service. Jemma mostly just gives her that infuriating raised eyebrow and smirk when Skye’s coming down from her Ward-fueled rants.

 

There’s an uncomfortable realization lurking there, so she shoves the thought aside as her car crunches up the gravel drive. Then she’s turning a bumpy corner and all of a sudden, the road opens up into a little clearing, and Ward’s cabin is right there. And it’s- it looks like something out of one of those ultra-cheesy Hallmark movies that her mom will never admit to watching. It’s all rough-cut logs and stone chimney with a little curl of smoke drifting skyward. There’s a cheerful glow coming from the windows, and Skye can practically taste the hot cocoa she’s sure is waiting inside.

 

She hates it.

 

Or, more accurately, she hates the guy watching her pull up from his rocking chair on the porch. Ward’s sitting there, nonchalantly scratching the head of an alarmingly large dog, casually acting like he isn’t ruining her life. Which - even though the dog is pretty cute - he totally is.

 

Skye takes one last (woefully inadequate) bracing breath and puts her car in park. Ward’s dog springs off the porch as she’s getting out, and it’s reached her as the door clicks shut. Then it’s warm fur, chuffing breaths, and Skye trying to stay on her feet as the dog shoulders her, asking to be petted. And really, who is she to deny such a polite request?

 

She’s giggling in a way that’s slightly less-than-dignified, crouched down and scratching that special warm spot behind the dog’s ears, when she remembers that her and the dog aren’t alone. Sure enough, when she looks up, Ward hasn’t moved from his spot on the porch, except now it looks like he’s fighting a smile and his eyebrows are raised in a way that’s a little too judgy for her tastes.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“I- I’m petting the dog too much.”

 

“You’re petting the dog too much.” He’s not fighting his grin now, and she ducks her head to make it clear that she’s smiling at the dog, and _not_ grinning back at Ward. She risks a glance up, and he’s looking past her, at her car. “Where’s Fitz and Simmons?”

 

She rolls her eyes. “Ugh, don’t talk to me about them. They bailed ‘cause they haven’t reached their ‘making googly-eyes at each other’ quota for the week or something.”

 

“Mmm.” That’s what she loves about Ward, he’s so expressive. He’s on his feet now, scratching at the dark creature on his face he calls a beard. She definitely doesn’t notice how sharp it makes his cheekbones look. “Want to come in for a minute? Ghost needs some water.”

 

She glances down at the dog - Ghost, apparently, who’s grinning toothily up at her from where he’s sprawled on his back, demanding a belly rub. “ _Ghost_? Who the fuck are you, Jon Snow?”

 

“What? Who is that?” Ward’s brow is furrowed now, and he’s shaking his head at her as he turns toward the cabin door. “C’mon, boy.”

 

“You- how do you not know who Jon Snow is? You don’t watch-” Who the hell is this guy, and how delusional was past Skye for thinking she’d be able to tolerate him for a couple hours? “Y’know what? Never mind. Let’s just get this over with.” Except now Grant’s not looking at her, he’s frowning over his shoulder at Ghost (who’s still lazing practically in Skye’s lap) in a vaguely accusatory manner.

 

 _Suck it, Ward. Ghost knows where it’s at._ She doesn’t stick her tongue out at him, though. That’d be petty. After a beat she realizes she’s staring at Ward’s stupid symmetrical face again, so she rocks back onto her feet and starts towards the door.

 

.

 

Ward immediately stomps off around a corner, and Skye can hear him rummaging in a room deeper in the place’s interior. Ghost brushes past her leg, heading to his water bowl, and leaves her looking around in the doorway as a wave of deliciously warm air washes over her and settles into her bones. The cabin is… nice. It’s mostly one big room, and there’s an overstuffed couch nestled in the corner that looks disgustingly comfortable, next to the merrily blazing fireplace. She normally hates cold wood floors, but Ward’s taken care of that problem by layering rugs over nearly every inch of walking space. _Guess the Terminator doesn’t like cold feet in the morning either._ Then, looking around for anything to take her mind away from the image of sleepy morning Ward in pajama pants, she sees the bookshelves. They’re practically floor-to-ceiling (and wall-to-wall), almost sagging under the weight of the pages they’re supporting. Really, now that she’s paying attention, she notices that books are everywhere - on the coffee table by the couch, stacked on the chairs at the kitchen table, on the mantel above the fireplace (she’s definitely going to give Ward shit about how unsafe that is).

 

She’s snickering to herself, thinking that she should get Ward a ladder for Christmas so he can recreate that library scene from _Beauty and the Beast,_ when there’s a tap on her shoulder. And if she shrieks and jumps a little, she’s pretty sure Ghost won’t tell anyone her secret.

 

Ward, on the other hand, looks like he’s already planning out how to tell Trip. He’s got what Skye’s assuming is a chainsaw case tucked under his arm and a dumb smirk on his dumb face, and if his smirk does unexpected fluttery things to her equally dumb stomach, well, Ghost can add that to his list of secrets that he won’t tell. Ward’s totally (hopefully) oblivious to her train of thought, though, and he sets the case against the wall next to the door to make a vaguely placating gesture.

 

“Whoa, jeez, Skye. Maybe lay off the caffeine for a while.”

 

And- alright, the way he says it is absolutely deserving of the slug in the arm she gives him.

 

“Make some _noise_ or something next time, asshole!”

 

Now he’s laughing low in his chest at her, and she decides the irritation she’s feeling right now is infinitely better than those damn butterflies.

 

“ _Rrrgh_ -” She bites off the insult on the tip of her tongue. “Let’s just get this over with, okay, Robot?”

 

Then he’s stepping _way_ into her bubble (she’s pretty sure she can hear the ‘ _pop’_ ) and, _whoa, eye contact_ , and his voice is low in a way that she feels all over as he leans down and says, “Whatever you say, Skye.” She’d be pissed about the laughter still in his voice, but suddenly the butterflies are back full force as his hands are sliding under her jacket to settle on her waist. His rough fingers have somehow found the one spot where her sweater’s ridden up, and she’s absolutely unprepared for the warmth that starts unfurling low in her belly from the simple skin-on-skin contact. This is part of why she’d been hesitant to let Ward help her get a Christmas tree - this thrumming, ever-present tension that they’ve had since the moment they met.

 

Her hands reflexively fly up to grip his biceps and _shit, why do the hot, muscley ones always have to be jerks,_ and she hates how breathy she sounds when she stutters “Wh- Ward? What are you-”

 

That’s all she manages to choke out before he gently lifts her and sets her to the side, out of the way of the door, his fading chuckle settling into the skin of her neck like a brand. For longer than she’d like to admit, all she can think about is how _long_ it’s been since she’s been laid.

 

Thankfully, the blast of wintry air as Grant opens the door jars her brain back into a semi-functioning state, and she’s spared further embarrassment as he turns to pick up his chainsaw. At least, she’s spared until he turns around, that damn eyebrow raised again. Somehow Ghost made it out the door while she was… otherwise occupied, and his expression is a perfect mirror with Ward’s - head tilted, slightly puzzled. She bets they practice that together, the jerks. Ghost was supposed to be on _her_ side, not his infuriating ~~ly good-looking~~ owner’s.

 

“... Uh, Skye, we kinda need to go _outside_ if you want a Christmas tree. It’d be nice if we could make it back to the cabin before Christmas, too.”

 

The real Christmas miracle will be if she makes it through this without strangling him ( _or jumping his bones in the snow,_ the tiny voice in the back of her head chimes in). She loftily chooses to ignore it, and the darkening skies overhead, as she falls into step behind Ward into the wilderness.

 

_Stay strong, Skye. It’s all for the tree. Just be strong for a couple more hours._

**Author's Note:**

> In case you hadn't gathered it from context clues, Ghost is the name of Jon Snow's dire wolf in Game of Thrones. Please let me know what you think of the first part of my extremely belated entry to the Christmas Fic Fest, and keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter, coming Spring 2019! Huge thanks to Daisy and Evie for cracking the whip and making me finish this chapter!


End file.
